


"What floor are we on again?"

by ImagineRedwood



Category: Mayans M.C. (TV)
Genre: Dominance, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/M, Hotel Sex, Married Couple, Miguel being rich, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22406686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineRedwood/pseuds/ImagineRedwood
Summary: Not requested, just something I threw together
Relationships: Miguel Galindo/Reader
Kudos: 28





	"What floor are we on again?"

“Oh my god, Miguel.”

Your husband smiled as he took in your reaction, locking the hotel door behind you. You stared out of the large window that was basically a wall, the length of the crystal-clear glass running along the farthest end of the hotel room, or penthouse suite really. It was already late, Miguel opting to fly out a day early so that you could both sleep and start exploring the city early tomorrow. The sun had already set, the sky a dusty blue with pink hues painted across. It was still light enough to see the multitude of buildings along the city but dark enough to be enamored by the glittering lights as well. The streets were bustling underneath, cars driving and people walking. You continued to walk until your nose was practically against the window, looking down and almost feeling dizzy.

“What floor are we on again?”

You turned your head to the side slightly as Miguel came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin gently on your shoulder.

“The 28th.”

“Jesus,”

You turned back to face the glass, tilting your head slightly to rest against his. You both stood there in silence, enjoying the embrace and the fact that you were finally able to have some alone time. Things had been tense for you both lately, both of you having to struggle with blocks in your businesses and the frustration that came with it. You were seeing each other less and arguing when you did see each other, your tempers having much shorter fuses as the days went by. This getaway had been Miguel’s idea and you had obliged, going with him to the airstrip to take the private plane to your destination. Now you were finally here and the exhaustion that you had been feeling had entirely dissipated with the beauty of the view. Miguel sighed happily and pulled away from you, squeezing softy at your sides as he did.

“I’ll be back.”

You turned to look back at him and watched as he walked into the unreasonably large but still breathtakingly beautiful kitchen, leaning against the white granite of the counter. He reached for the bottle of champagne that was sat sideways in the rose gold bucket and pulled it out, placing it down onto the towel on the counter to let the dripping water from the ice dry. Two flutes were there, already placed next to the bucket and he peeled the foil off of the bottle while you returned your gaze to the view, your attention now on the shore of the beach that you could see vaguely in the background. You had seen the almost fake looking crystal blue water as you had been driven to the resort and you were sure that going to the beach was something you would be taking advantage of before you finished this getaway. The sharp and sudden pop of the cork leaving the bottle startled you and you looked back at Miguel to find him already looking at you, a smirk on his lips.

“Oops.”

You half scoffed, half laughed and shook your head, hand to your chest as you willed your pulse to slow down. Miguel poured the champagne and grabbed the flutes, slowly walking over to you and holding one out to you. Your fingers gingerly wrapped around the glass and you watched as Miguel reached out with one arm, wrapping it around you to bring you in closer to him while the other raised his glass up to yours.

“To my beautiful wife.”

You grinned and clinked your glass against his in the toast, leaning in to press your lips against his. His beard tickled you slightly, the hair a little longer as he hadn’t bothered to trim it for the last two weeks. He kissed you passionately, the hand wrapped around your waist holding you just a little tighter as he teased your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. You didn’t bother fighting him, you knew that it was always a losing battle. It didn’t take long before the simple kiss had morphed into a makeout session and you pulled away breathless, Miguel simply opting to trail his kisses along your cheek and down your neck instead. You giggled and tried to pull away further as you saw his glass tilting more and more.

“Miguel, the champagne!”

“Fuck the champagne.”

You tried to take the glass from his hand, and he let you. It was a feat, but you managed to pull away from his grasp long enough to place the flutes down onto the coffee table beside you. His hands were back on you then, sliding around your back to glide down your ass to the hem of your sundress. He began lifting the material and you gasped as you felt your backside exposed, also to the clear view of the window. He didn’t stop at your surprise, simply smirking and finishing his work removing the dress from your body.

“Did you forget there’s a big ass window behind us? Let’s go to the room.”

He shook his head and mumbled his decline against your neck as he sucked on the skin, his hands already working on undoing the clasp of your bra.

“No one can see us up here, corazón. Stop worrying for once. Just let me enjoy you.”

You knew he had a fair point. You had gotten more and more uptight over the past couple of weeks, worrying about every single detail and that was part of why you were so drained. Maybe Miguel was right. You were in the middle of Miami at the nicest resort in the area with your man who wanted to bend you over while you sipped champagne. Maybe you would let him enjoy you, however risky you felt it may have been. You gave a nod and he grinned, clasps of your bra undone, and the material already being pulled from your shoulders. Miguel’s hands made their way to your newly exposed breasts, squeezing and caressing while his mouth returned to your neck. You could feel him suckling and had to bite your tongue not to tell him to make sure he didn’t leave any marks. You would wear as much concealer as needed but you were going to enjoy this night.

Miguel’s lips trailed down your neck to your chest as he leaned forward, leaving teasing licks to your nipples as you squirmed. Suddenly, he pulled back and trained his eyes on you, full of lust and he made sure to keep the eye contact. He slowly sunk down to his knees before you, lips trailing kisses down your tummy as he went. His lips inched across your hips and abdomen as his dexterous fingers hooked into the top of your panties, dragging them down slow as ever. His eyes never left yours.

Not as he pulled the material all the way to your ankles.

Not as he held your hips to have you step out of them.

Not as he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against you.

Not as his tongue dragged slowly through your lips, his beard scratching gloriously at the delicate skin.

He kept the dark orbs trained on you as he devoured you. Maybe at some point he could’ve possibly looked away, but you wouldn’t have been able to tell, your own eyes closed as you tossed your head back, face angled up at the heavens as he claimed you with only his mouth. You had come to lean against the glass at some point, your hand squished against the window as you spread your legs wider. It worried you, that someone down way below may just happen to look up and see, but you’d be lying if you said that that very same worry and fear wasn’t arousing you even further. Miguel’s hands held onto your hips tightly as he finally pulled his mouth away from you. When he did his lips were fuller than usual, his beard and chin slick with you. He stood then and his eyes were different now. Still as dark, but more aggressive now. His words verified that.

“Get on the couch. Ass up.”

His tone left no room for argument or compromise. There was no please or pet name. This wasn’t the side of your regular doting husband who called you the sweetest names in the book and treated you as if you were the queen of all the world. This was the side of your husband that made you blush from the pure filth that he growled into your ear. This was the side that fucked you like a whore and called you one too. The side that made it feel almost as if you were a woman different yourself. Your collected and established disposition cracked and crumbling until you were just as you were now. Facedown, ass up and begging for Mr. Galindo to do with you as he pleased, even if the world could see from out that window.

And he would.


End file.
